


The Queen's Birthday

by mellyb6



Series: Royal Ever After [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Flowers, Love and Happiness, Music, Post S3, annamis, chocolate cake, new pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: Post S3 - It's Queen Anne's birthday. Aramis has presents for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dianaolveira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianaolveira/gifts).



> Takes place only a couple of months after Louis XIII's death. 
> 
> This is a birthday present for my great friend Diana! :)

There's no promise of a sunny day when Queen Anne awakes. Lying still in her bed, she lets the sounds of the outside world weave their way into her quiet slumber. The rain pattering on the windowpanes. The occasional gush of wind. The faint and dim light peering through the heavy curtains at the windows : the certain sign that it mustn't be warm outside. Perhaps not the ideal day for outdoors activities.

 

The candle which was left burning in the large bedchamber is long extinct. There are only ambers left in the fireplace. Yet the Queen does not mind. She's warm in her bed and as she leaves her soft dreams to come back to the comfort of her bed and the smooth linens, she remembers that today is a special day.

 

Her birthday.

 

One, which for once, will be hers alone. For the few moments when she will manage not to be the Regent but only a woman. There may not be many hours of the day that she can claim to be only hers and yet today, it will not stop her from feeling gleeful.

 

There are bright flowers in her appartments when the maids come to help her dress and get ready for the long day. They smell wonderful. All sorts of bright colors for late September. Roses mostly which brighten her hair as well. She might still be in mourning, the late King having only passed away a few months beforehand, she feels happy today and it must show. It shows on her face and her smile and how she hums under her breath while she is getting dressed.

 

There's a lightness in her heart and the rose she secures in her corsage accompanies her in the corridors. Along with the ones tied in a bracelet around her wrist. The new and simple ornaments made her late for her day yet she does not mind.

 

The flowers accompany her to say hello to her son. It's like a tempest on the grounds, which greatly amazes the young King who observes the phenomenon from his bedroom. Already dressed for their breakfast but his curls as unruly as ever on his head. His mother loves it, it reminds her so much of his father even if it's not the same color and when her son smiles at her and wishes her a happy birthday after his governess has curtsied and rang for the food to be brought, he looks so much like Aramis that Queen Anne feels her heart lift with pride and joy.

 

“I like the red rose in your hair,” the young King decides, after his kiss and after his mother has sat down so he could examine her head. “It's beautiful. Did you go outside to pick it?”

 

He's seen her do it some times during the summer. When she would take walks and return to the palace with full bouquets to decorate her appartments.

 

“I doubt anyone would want to go outside in this dreadful weather.”

 

“Yes. I'm afraid one of the trees is going to fall down. Look at it, maman!”

 

He points at the window and the branches flailing. It's more interesting than what he is given to eat in the morning. Yet he sits by his mother's side and they eat together. Like they do most mornings and Queen Anne does not care if it goes against the protocole or past traditions to eat with her child rather than by herself with courtiers. She could scarcely do it when her late husband was still alive. She has so many mornings to make up for.

 

She shivers at the wind rattling against the building.

 

“I hope not. But we'll refrain from going to the grounds today. To be safe. There'll be music later to keep us entertained. And we'll have a nice dinner.”

 

“What type of music?”

 

“My favorite. You'll see. I'm sure you will enjoy it. And we'll eat chocolate cake as well.”

 

“Because it's raining?”

 

Queen Anne gives a soft laugh and smoothes her son's hair.

 

“Because it is my birthday.”

 

“Will you receive many presents, maman? I had so many when it was _my_ birthday!”

 

“That's because you are a child and people want you to have many toys to play with.”

 

“But you're the Queen. You rule for me. You are so important, people must want to please you all the time.”

 

“Where did you hear this?” She draws back, surprised at the accuracy in her son's words yet astonished that someone as small as he is could have understood the ramifications of being head of the country.

 

“Aramis told me about it once.”

 

Of course.

 

The Queen smiles again, gives her son's forehead a kiss.

 

“I may receive some presents but certainly not as interesting as the ones you were gifted. And there will be no big party. Only some music.”

 

“And the chocolate cake!”

 

“That we'll eat together later today. After the Council meeting.”

 

The young boy looks satisfied by the day's programme. Queen Anne would have none of the lavish parties her late husband would have for their mutual birthdays. Or the one he bestowed upon their son in the spring. The country is at war and she will not host grandiose parties when her people are suffering and struggling not to starve. They are more important than the fact that she is growing older. She's simply looking forward to spending some time with her family and people she holds dear.

 

And chocolate.

 

“Happy birthday, maman,” her son tells her earnestly one more time, hugging her when she is about to leave. Queen Anne hugs him back tightly. The little boy who is growing every day and that she is fortunate enough to have close by, every single day of her life.

 

She could be late to all the Council Meetings if it meant that time was better spent in her son's company. She loves him more than she loves life itself and on such a special day, he deserves all her attention whenever she's his mother and not merely the Regent.

 

It's a tedious session today, to add to the headache of the problems at hand. It's dark in the large room in spite of the many chandeliers. A lot of talk that she must focus on and yet, Aramis is sitting right next to her, smiling whenever she glances at him when there's a respite.

 

Requesting her attention of a more pressing matter when the Meeting is finally over. The hours dragged on and morning is already gone. But at least this part of her day is behind her. Behind them.

 

Queen Anne likes the warmth of his hand on her elbow when he directs her to a tall window where the curtains have been opened. It's still raining and she watches the drops slide down the glass panels. Aramis is also warm by her side, a reassuring and welcome presence. Along with his honest smile and the way his eyes tinkle when he compliments her for the colorful flowers adorning the dark gown. Not completely black since she cannot bear it. A dark blue in places, and so much lace that the Queen doesn't really mind wearing mourning clothes which are so regal.

 

“They were brought to me this morning. I wonder who sent them.”

 

There's a spark in her eyes when she says that and the sound of Aramis' clear laughter makes her head spin with happiness. He's beautiful and he's here with her for the rest of her life. For as long as they wish it. He's here for her and she's here with him and there's nobody to stop them from speaking, from looking at each other. From talking in a relative privacy. Because he's her First Minister, even though it's only been a couple of months and he has yet to grow completely confident in the role. But she loves him and she trusts him. He's still her valiant soldier, only now he's also a partner in life and she couldn't be more glad of her choice.

 

His fingers brush her hand quickly while he fakes to be re-arranging his robes. They leave a nice tickling feeling on her skin.

 

“I have something else for you but you'll have to wait until later.”

 

It sparks her interest and she gazes at him intently.

 

“Something else?”

 

“Yes. Something, I think, that you will like more than flowers.”

 

“Jewelry?”

 

It's a favorite of hers, Aramis is very well aware of it. She has so much that sometimes he wonders how she manages to wear all her pieces or how she remembers every single one that she owns. Perhaps she does not. As far as he's concerned, she wouldn't requite all this artifice to be gorgeous. He adores his flowers everywhere on her. In her hair, the blonde curls woven around them. On her white skin and how delicate they make her look. Almost a simple woman under the heavy gowns.

 

He shakes his head at her question, chuckling.

 

“It's a surprise.”

 

It's a whisper and there's so much confidence in the way he talks to her that it would make her dizzy with joy. She can't believe this is her life now. In spite of politics and having to be strong for her son and France. This, Queen Anne has always been capable of it. Only now, she has no one around to look down on her, to criticize her openly. No one to scorn her and ridicule her. She has Aramis and Aramis is here on her birthday. The first birthday since she came to Paris as a child when she is truly free.

 

“I cannot wait.”

 

“Tonight.”

 

“Louis and I will be sharing chocolate cake later. You are welcome to join us.”

 

Aramis' eyes widen and then settle on her soft face and the light in her smile. He bows his head respectfully, to thank her. Then grabs her hand and brings it to his lips to kiss it. The Queen grips his fingers for the few seconds they are close to his.

 

“I'll be honored.”

 

In the afternoon, after he's done with his duties and his only worry is to be reunited with the Queen and the young King, Aramis follows the sound of the harp and the violin. The music fills the Palace corridors, light and cheerful. Enough to forget about the cold rain and the wind lashing out if you step outside. There's a large fire burning in the room. Many more flowers than the ones he sent to the Queen's appartments this morning. A modest present yet he knew she'd like them. They were a spectacular addition to make her feel perhaps more special today. She's been so lonely and sad in these big empty rooms in the past that Aramis is making it his life's work to bring so much joy and love to the Palace that Queen Anne's dull memories will fade and make room to happier ones.

 

The ladies-in-waiting are chatting above the music, listening and clapping their hands whenever there's a pause in the performance. The Queen's face lightens when he steps inside the room and the chatter fades for a moment. Before resuming after he's taken a seat by the Queen's side. Far away enough so it won't be deemed indecent yet close enough so they can talk.They're still so careful despite the desire in both of their hearts to be as close to another as they can. Physically and emotionally.

 

She sounds merry and calm, happy because of the musicians and the wine. And the little cakes on display on the table. The ones she offers him. Simply so she can touch his arm when she inquires how he liked them. Tiny gestures which are innocent enough to be overlooked even though they carry intense meaning for the both of men.

 

Aramis has never been more sure of his decision to become her First Minister. It doesn't come as naturally to him as it does to her but he's strenghtening his assurance and his position. And more importantly, he's with her every day. Most of the days. To witness her delight and her new life with her son. How joyful they are to have one another.

 

Queen Anne can almost feel her heart burst in her chest when her son joins them to eat the greatly awaited cake. And he's obviously spent the day rehearsing an excellent poem that he recites for her. Without stumbling on his words, almost never looking down at his feet. Looking at her and at her only, grinning more like a little boy than a King when his mother applaudes and urges him to come to her so she can give him a kiss. It was fantastic.

 

It's better when the ladies-in-waiting are gone and it's only the two of them with Aramis. The little boy is livelier when there is only his mother around. And Aramis. He's growing fond of Aramis. Of his stories about soldiers and Musketeers. The young Kind loves listening to the First Minister or even enrolling him to play with his toys.

 

He eats some of his cake with his fingers and without an audience, when Queen Anne is no longer the Queen Regent but only a mother and a woman, she doesn't feel the need to tell him to mind his manners. Aramis only praises him for eating like a soldier on the field would do. There aren't often forks on the battlefield.

 

Sometimes when it's just the three of them, and the guards at the open doors, they could pass for a normal family. If they didn't live in grand rooms and if the future of the entire country didn't depend on them. At least some hours of the Queen's days aren't as stuffy as all the hours of her years as the Queen consort. This is a new freedom, in spite of the dark clothes. Those will not be there forever, though. Guarding a semblance of tradition yet ruling powerfully asserts her authority and legitimacy as Regent.

 

At the same time, she laughs more than she ever did. She grows so much closer to Aramis, letting him offer his arm to guide her to the chapel and the evening service.

 

She likes the quiet place. Small and not too many people in attendance. The complete opposite of grandiose birthday parties. She feels at peace with herself, never doing anything wrong. Doing all that she can to give a bright future to her son and her country. Doing this with tremendous help and support and after the priest has blessed her, she's ready to retire to her appartments and be sheltered from the rest of the world. Ready to not be bothered by anyone anymore.

 

There's a tiny knock on the door so shortly after she's closed it that she has to smile.

 

“Come in.”

 

Aramis pokes his head in, grinning mischievously, scanning his surroundings, and the Queen is interested at once.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I have your surprise.”

 

“I don't suppose I have to close my eyes, do I?”

 

“Please do.”

 

She's happy to do it, actually. She's never received such genuine presents and she doesn't even know what it is. The presents which were sent to her and that her ladies-in-waiting were happy to open in the afternoon mean nothing to her. Favors and reminders from aristocrats and nobles. People who used to talk behind her back when the late King was still alive. Aramis' present is everything to her. Whatever it is. His joy to give it to her is enough.

 

She hears the door crack open and the quick steps he takes to come to her side. She tries very hard not to peep but she is loving this surprise.

 

“You can open them,” he whispers and the Queen startles when she excitedly does. “It's not jewelry, I'm afraid. Happy birthday!”

 

The Queen stares in utter surprise at the fluffy and calm cat that Aramis is cradling in his arms. Ginger fur and white paws. Long, white whiskers and such green eyes lazily observing the room and its inhabitant. There's a faint purring sound coming from the animal whenever Aramis pets its head. The cat closes his eyes in delight and its tail swings under Aramis' elbow.

 

“We used to have many at the Garrison. They're really useful to hunt mice and other rodents. They haven't been spared by the fire in the spring and I found this one a couple of weeks ago when I visited d'Artagnan,” Aramis explains. “It didn't look as good then but a good wash later, there was a royal look to it.”

 

“Is that why you had scratch marks on your arms?” the Queen inquires, remembering how evasive Aramis had been that particular day and how upset he had made her to not answer her question directly.

 

“Oh, yes. He was a little terror.”

 

The Queen laughs quietly, at the story and at how Aramis scrunches his nose. Remembering the pain.

 

“I apologize for being cross with you then.”

 

“It was for the greater good,” Aramis assures her. He didn't mind the fussing she did that day. That she could do it with him over something so small as a few scratches meant that she was growing bold with him. That he was not only her soldier anymore. Not a distant person that she couldn't love without fearing death.

 

“I wanted to give him a better life than the streets and I thought you might like to have a companion,” Aramis adds, studying her reaction closely. She isn't as closeted now as she used to be yet Aramis loves animals, loves the cats and he supposed she would, too.

 

There are cats in the kitchens, so Queen Anne has been told and sometimes she has seen some in the grounds but the simple idea that she could have one of her own, one that would be hers and would stay with her all day, it makes her heart stutter. That Aramis did this for her.

 

“What's his name?” she asks, finally stepping closer to pet the cat herself. He's so incredibly soft and he raises his head in the palm of her hand, demanding more. Aramis gazes at her fondly, observing her every move. The pure look of joy in her eyes. The glow on her cheeks.

 

“Lancelot.”

 

Queen Anne looks up at the answer, surprised yet again. Only to find the ocean of Aramis' eyes displaying all the love he has for her and he can show her every day. She smiles.

 

“Did you name him that?”

 

“I did. After a noble knight in love with his Queen.”

 

“I know the legend.”

 

“It keeps on repeating itself, or so it seems.”

 

The Queen keeps on smiling, petting the cat. Until he grows annoyed with the position, pounces down from Aramis' arms to inspect the room. Before he pounces on the royal bed, sniffs the royal linens and curls up to sleep. Already at home.

 

Aramis takes advantage of the moment to trace the edge of the Queen's face with a finger. Slowly and smoothly. Touching her hair and the flower which is still there. A little less fresh than it was in the morning. The blonde curls now that there is no more black veil. Along her cheek and how she closes her eyes at the touch. Then he's breathing so close to her face and he rests his lips against her cheek. For a very long time. His hand is warm on her waist and she grips his arm strongly.

 

The Queen feels the tremors pass through her body at the joy of the situation and she presses her own lips to his cheek. She doesn't mind the beard so much anymore.

 

“Happy birthday, Anne.”

 

This is home. With her cat which has stolen her place to sleep. With Aramis who hugs her tightly and kisses her face to no end. Because there is no one around and there's freedom in his life now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anne of Austria's birthday was September 22.


End file.
